Page 46 of The Viscount's Silent Pugilist

What the bloody hell? Where in the blazes had that thought come from? It was the most ridiculous of all of his numbskulled ideas.

“I am sure Mother could find you a job as a maid in a lovely home.”

She let go of his hand, firmed her lips, and thumbed at her chest.

This was like playing charades. “I…”

She nodded and formed a fist that she placed beside her cheek.

“Punch,” he said. “I punch. Are you telling me you want to box?”

She beamed at him.

His breath caught in his chest. She was far from timid. This beautiful, courageous woman, kneeling in front of him, while looking up at him with adoration in her eyes, would be the death of him. He was not cut from a gentlemanly mold that could resist any longer. His cock twitched, his fingers itched to touch, and his lips tingled with need.

“Gen,” he whispered, the rasp in his voice betraying his overwhelming desire.

She worried her lip. That damn lip that he wanted to lick, nip, and possess. He leaned forward, his mouth reaching.

Horatio leaped from his seat and charged.

“Augh!” Jonathan pressed back into his chair as the dog’s wet, sloppy tongue laved his teeth.

Pego-jammed by a furry ratter. “Bluck.” Jonathan sputtered as he pulled away from Floppy’s enthusiastic kisses.

Gen giggled so hard she snorted. Her eyes widened. She brought both of her palms to her mouth, and her chest rose and fell with her chortles.

The spell broken, Jonathan accepted his lot and kissed the mutt on his snout.

“Thank you for listening. Both of you. I suppose we should all get some sleep, and Gen, I will see you for our morning run.” He patted Floppy’s head. “I supposeyouget to stay in bed while I am dragging my arse all over London, you pampered mutt.”

Gen stood, walked to the clock on the mantle, and then pointed to the bottom number. Thereupon, she held up six fingers.

He cringed. “Six of the clock?” That was blasted early. It would still be dark and bloody frigging cold.

She sent him a smart-arse grin. God save him. This underfed chit was going to run circles around him.

Prancing past him, she motioned for Floppy to follow her. For one glorious moment, Jonathan allowed himself to pretend that the come-hither, curling index finger was meant for him.

Chapter Fourteen

Dressed in Jonathan’sout-of-fashion breeches and too-large shirt, and the shoes Franny had given her, Genevieve stepped softly, wending the hallway to the dark stairwell, hoping that Jonathan was awake. She did not relish the idea of running without him, even though there was no way the pampered Kilsby was up this early.

The truth was that she was worried that Jonathan had changed his mind despite the fact that last night they’d connected on a visceral level. He had opened up and shared his deepest secrets, which must have been painful for a man with as much pride as the viscount. She did not think less of him. How could she when she fought her own abnormalities? In fact,nowshe understood why she found him so appealing. Underneath the swagger and bravado, he was a good man who cared about his friends, his family, and his mother’s cause. He’d simply confirmed what she already suspected; despite his constant protestations, he cared deeply about so many things. A self-centered, pampered lordling would not bring home a mendicant and her mangy flea-infested dog, then treat them like honored guests.

He’d also confessed that he’d almost kissed her when he was inebriated. He must have been so deep in his cups that he had no idea that she’d leaned toward him, her lips tingling with desire.

One thing was for certain, if Horatio hadn’t jumped between them, they would have kissed last night.

With the dawn of a new day came the understanding that Horatio’s interference was for the best. She would struggle to face Jonathan if they had kissed. Hopefully, she was needlessly fretting, and he wouldn’t push her away to protect his hubris now that he’d unburdened himself. He might be a good man, but he was still a man, and as far as she knew, they all had prideful sensibilities.

Fear that he would not be waiting for her gripped her so hard, she halted, her foot hovering above the next step.

So what if he changes his mind? You’ve survived the streets and a murderous father who detests you, so you can certainly run in a fashionable area of London on your own.After all, she would be disguised as a man, the ultimate protection.

Firming her resolve, she finished descending the stairs.

The second she reached the first floor, she smiled because Jonathan sat on a gilded chair in the foyer, studying his pocket watch. His stockinged legs hung over the chair’s arm, and his hair stuck out every which way. Stubble dotted his cheeks and chin. Even pre-valet and disheveled, the viscount was exceedingly handsome.